


elastics

by draconicwyvern (kytaen)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: 3rd years, Gen, Gift Fic, Oneshot, Yamaguchi is the Captain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-02
Updated: 2016-02-02
Packaged: 2018-05-17 21:20:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5885608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kytaen/pseuds/draconicwyvern
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Like elastics, changing length with increase in tension, there's a risk of breaking, but sometimes, you have to risk your entire soul to do as well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	elastics

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aceasahis](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=aceasahis).



> [tumblr](http://natsumetakashikun.tumblr.com/writing).
> 
> dedicated to [aceasahis](http://aceasahis.tumblr.com) and the rest of the protect-yamaguchi-kik-group (sorry, I don't know who you lovely people are but) ; this is for you guys.

Everything they've worked for, this is it.

The heat of the open gymnasium overwhelms his poor senses, it's overbearing and leaves his arms with a sheen of damp sweat. "Seijoh?" Akio, a first year, asks, his tousled brown hair piling up in a swirl, "isn't it that team Karasuno played against two years ago, and won?"

"Yeah," the captain says, motioning the team to head in. Tadashi coughs, and repeats his statement, this time with more conviction. "We played against them quite a few times when I was a first year, ending up losing one and winning the other. Though, I'm not entirely qualified to mention any details, since I wasn't a starting player..."

That feeling still resides in his heart, a dense mass of helplessness twisting into a horrific choking hazard in his gullet. When they'd played against Seijoh two years prior, he was relatively inexperienced among the rest of the first years, and that moment, when everything is riding on your shoulders and you ruin it by hitting your serve into the net -- it's something Tadashi would give anything to never come across experiencing it again.

Only today, the game further depends on his ability to lead.

The team -- his team, he reminds himself -- is strong this year, as it had been a year ago, with the fierce guide of Ennoshita-san pulling Karasuno farther into the lead than before, and the year before that, when Daichi-san and the rest of the volleyball club's alumni had picked the baby crows up, raised them, and led them to battle. They managed to go to Nationals that year. And judging by how hard his fellow third years practiced during club, this year they're setting their goals high once again. "You must head to the Nationals once more!" Tanaka-san had urged them, before the former third years had left.

Tadashi isn't so sure he can make Tanaka-san's dream come true.

Prior to the game, Yachi had made sure everyone was in tip-top shape, handing out medicine to the nauseous ones and brightening their faces with a seemingly calm smile. Tadashi has since stopped relying on stomach medicine, but the tangle of nerves doesn't bode well to his supposed role as captain; he needs to be reserved and composed but he's trembling. The team is relying on his strength to pull them forward, and yet he's the one who is so jittery? _Pathetic._

"Air Salonpas!" Hinata exclaims, as he takes a whiff of the atmosphere, listens to the comforting sound of volleyballs spiked, received, "whooshed" and "fwooshed". Ever since his growth spurt, Hinata has (to his delight and Kageyama's chagrin) grown to an adequate 168.5 centimeters in height. The vice-captain is ever complaining that he didn't reach 170, but, as he'd said to Tadashi one day, "at least now I can see the view from the top a little better!" 

"Shut up, we know, you've said that a billion times." Kageyama, as tall as he originally was, has surprisingly grown taller as well, though only by a little. (Tsukishima remained the tallest one of their team, even after receiving the second and first years, using his height to its full potential and to Karasuno's advantage.)

"Oh yeah? I'm sure you can't count to a billion with only 10 fingers." Another thing to note about Hinata's development: it was not only in height and skills, but in sarcasm as well. And same towards Kageyama -- more than height was concerned, with two years came a tighter rein in temper, and Kageyama's anger rarely is bound for a full-blown argument these days. The relationship between the third year setter and Karasuno's small ace has really developed from the rocky beginnings, Tadashi muses. From rivals to close friends, who knew?

Tadashi's mother loved to say the phrase, "Only time will tell." As much as it were true, Tsukishima disagreed with it immensely (as per usual) whenever he was over at Tadashi's house and happened to hear his mother say it out loud. "Time is just the motion of distinct objects moving in correlation to each other. You shouldn't put too much trust in it."

"Lighten up, Tsukki, it's only an expression," Tadashi would say, flipping between two movie choices. "Jurassic Park or E.T.?" 

_Life isn't a movie, and no matter how hard you try, some things aren't just made for the unlucky._

No matter how hard he tries, his heart racing to the beat of his inward thoughts in overdrive does not stop when he commands it to. His sickening dread is inseparable from the rising realization of just how powerless he is in facing his fears.

_"Me, captain?" he scoffs, and rightfully so. They sit in a close circle, with Hinata on the opposite side of the ring. Hinata had shamelessly turned down the title of captain just moments ago, with a determined shake of his head, "I think Yamaguchi should be captain. I'm already satisfied with 'ace', after all."_

_"But..." Tadashi complains, hands gripping his knees in a death-inducing hold, slipping off every now and so as he applies more pressure to the joints, "Tsukki... and Kageyama, they'd do a better job than I ever will. And Hinata, you've been captain before, in middle school. I wasn't even a regular in my first year, and I'm still scared to my bones when I serve --"_

_"Don't say it that way," Tsukishima says, clearly not interested in the conversation, the way his eyes dull with boredom. "Kageyama wouldn't be a good idea."_

_"Hah?" Kageyama starts, but Tsukishima doesn't let him continue._

_"Yamaguchi, your skills have grown. You're a regular now, and we all get heart attacks whenever Hinata serves, so it's no different. I don't see any reason you shouldn't accept the position."_

_"You'll be great, Yamaguchi," Hinata agrees. "Your serves are amazing now! We can't do without you."_

_They are interrupted by a cough from Kageyama, and for some reason, the setter looks moody and down._ Did Tsukishima's words get to him or what? _Tadashi wonders._

_"I don't want to be like Oikawa-san," Kageyama begins, "captain and setter at the same time. And I..." he bites his lip then, "...I'm no good with people, so I wouldn't..." The rest is an incoherent mumble, but the message is clear._

_"Ah, you finally admit this, Kageyama-kun?" Hinata asks, a smirk playing on his face. "You want me to teach you?"_

_Kageyama simmers in boiling rage but does not take action. "I vote for Yamaguchi as well."_

_"That's three out of four," Tsukishima says. "Of course, we're not pressuring you. In case you don't want to accept, I'll be captain. Even though I don't like taking care of these two responsibilities all the time."_

_"Hah?" and this time, Kageyama isn't planning on 'not taking action'. Tsukishima avoids the outstretched claw easily, and simpers while dodging each blow. He looks like he's having fun, but he's probably dead inside, dead tired of the freak duo's constant antics._

_In the distance, the moon bathes the land with its ethereal glow. It's probably getting late, and they should break up and go home. Hinata had openly refused, and Tadashi knows by experience, it's nearly impossible to change Hinata's mind once the boy sets his devotion in place. Kageyama, though highly skilled in specific areas, is incompetent socially. And Tsukishima -- Tadashi has asked enough of his best friend, and it's already enough, really, the way it is now, with the level of responsibilities Tsukishima has had to take on, helping Ennoshita with calming the energetic first years down, of arriving first in the morning to set up and leaving the gym last. Without Daichi-san and Suga-san, and the addition of hyperactive first years to add onto the bunch, it's been difficult, and Tsukishima has opted to help more than he needs to, while Tadashi himself would help when he could, and the rest of the days spent training with Shimada-san._

_Tadashi sighs in defeat, and the whisper guides him towards his decided future: "I'll do it."_

I can't do it, he thinks.

A hand squeezes his shoulder blade, and Tadashi yelps, looking up. Tsukishima slips on his sports glasses, a bare-boned -- is that supposed to be a smile? -- dancing across his lips; it could've been a grimace for all Tadashi knows but nothing matters more than the next few words his best friend utters, with dominating confidence:

"We're counting on you, Captain."

"Th...thanks, Tsukki." His throat is tight, air pushing hard through the narrow tube, but it allows him to at least return his gratitude. "I'll do my best."

A beat, then Hinata joins the fray, thumbs up in agreement, two rows of teeth showing as his grin of encouragement stretches his mouth so much Tadashi is sure it might fall off. The orange-haired boy scratches his head sheepishly, dislodging a hair clip from his fringe. He stoops down to pick it up, now even more embarrassed than before, though it's hardly noticeable under adrenaline-stained cheeks. "I'm... only the vice-captain, after all, but..." He lifts his head, and the intense, customary glare reveals itself, intimidating yet strangely soothing. "...you can count on me if you're in a hassle. And the rest of Karasuno --"

"-- is behind me. I know." Tadashi's hand clenches around the slippery cloth of his shorts. "I know that, but nonetheless I'm nervous. This is the first time I've led the team in something as grand as Inter High. And it's the final deciding game."

"It'll be fine," Hinata tries in his best reassuring voice, despite the faint fluctuation of, perhaps, just a teeny bit of worry? "We got past Wakunan and Shiratorizawa, didn't we?"

Kageyama downs a swig of water, wiping his mouth while saying, "What do you think you're doing, dumbass, acting all confident. You look more anxious than the captain does."

Hinata grabs a stray towel from the bench and whacks the taller boy on the chest. "Shut up, _not vice-captain or the ace_."

"Now, now," Tadashi plasters on a fake smile as he makes his way in between the petty bickering, pushing the two boys apart. He ducks expertly around a flailing arm and stops the trajectory of a leg kick with his own foot. "Don't fight now, will you?"

Hinata and Kageyama cock their heads in bewilderment, letting their arms drop to their sides. "We're not fighting."

"Yamaguchi," Tsukishima says, as he leans down to pick up the towel, "don't let them brainwash you with their inadequate lies."

"What did you say, Tsukishima?" Hinata tackles Tsukishima full on, and Tsukishima keels over from even Hinata's light(er) weight. Tadashi sighs and shakes his head, wondering just how Ennoshita-san was able to manage. 

"I'm fine," Tsukishima growls, patting dust from his shorts and Yamaguchi's hanging question of "Are you okay?" away. "Can we get going now, you two idiots? There's no time to waste, and we have a game to play."

"Of course!" Hinata interjects, and Kageyama follows suit. Tadashi wishes he can be as confident as the freak duo, lacing each word with the utmost strength they can muster.

"Captain." Tadashi never came to be used to Tsukishima calling him by position, and it took a while before he reacts to the voice. 

"Eh? Oh, yeah, Tsukki. Coming." Tadashi loops the elastic band in a figure-eight around two fingers, then unwinds it. _Rinse, repeat. Push and pull. Wind, unwind._ He drags the pliant rubber down his neck, pushes it across his forehead, smoothes the tease of hair until it no longer obstructs his vision. Both hands occupied on the grooves of shoulders as he lets loose a hoarse cry, "Karasuno --" 

"FIGHT!" the rest of the players, his team, echoes. Tadashi senses latent tension running through his team's veins, and suddenly, panicked aches flutter like butterflies through his chest. _We should have trained more_ , but it's too late to back up now; they've made it so far. _We're not ready_.

Seijoh's captain locks a defiant gaze upon him as Tadashi walks closer to his imminent fate. "Let's have a good game," Kindaichi says; tides have changed and the teal-dressed (radish-headed, if Hinata were here to claim,) third year is as confident as a wolf tracking down hapless prey, the way he enunciates the "Let's" as if the team behind him, the refurbished Seijoh, will be bound to win, no matter what happens.

"Same to you," Tadashi says, a bit less convinced than the former appears to be, but he hopes the message would get through. He breaks from the rough handshake to deliver a shaky, "We're going to win this!" As if rain has broken from the heavens after a month-long dry spell, Karasuno erupts into mighty cheers; even the first years seem rejuvenated, glancing forward instead of towards the ground.

The coin is flipped, and Tadashi finds himself latching onto the biaxial spin as if the game's fate depended solely upon which team begins the serve. "Heads, Karasuno, tails, Aoba Jousai," the referee announces, and slaps the coin on the back of his hand.

"Heads."

Tadashi switches his focus from the coin to the eager vice-captain. "Hinata, we're starting with the serve."

"So you'll be serving, then?" Hinata says this as if it were as simple as that, as if it is apparent, and Tadashi wants to face palm himself for forgetting: the coach changed their rotation a while ago, testing out new strategies and whatnot. And now Tadashi regrets his input in the unanimous decision.

The lights, the blinding, dazzling fixtures, halo his disobedient lock of hair, fix their beady eyes on his trembling form, shoving him into the limelight. Time slips away, the edges _wither, rend, **fall** , _the ball does the same, the hitting of the ground as loud as the thump in his heart --

His vision before him goes from a binocular field of view to a thin line pinched in the middle, the intense white glow shattering into millions of blinking Christmas lights, gold and cinereous sparks shooting forth. _Concentrate, Tadashi!_ he urges himself, gripping soft leather between strained fingers and bruised palms, sweat-lined brow dripping a bitter salt taste over the sting of his bit lip. 

{ He's only a herring, at the bottom of the food chain --

in the midst of a tumultuous, turbulent sea. }

 _This isn't like before, where you can depend on the captain to put everything in order!_ The gruesome reminder tinges the salinity until it's more suitable to describe as the sourness of expired milk. _You're the captain, you have to call the shots!_

The whistle blows, echoes across the wide expanse of court, a shrill screech. A jarring sound in Tadashi's haze, slicing through the dense mist, and all of a sudden, he is calm. Lungs no longer moving to the eccentric beat of his erratic heartbeat, shallow, quickening breaths fading to their regular depth; he lifts his arms to the ceiling and sees the star-bright sky --

_That's right. This isn't like before._

The volleyball whips into position, gyrating a millimeter off his desired endpoint, but it'll do just fine. The play will be just fine, _he'll_ do just fine. Tadashi's elbow pulls back, stretching and straining his muscles, and his knees bend forward, collecting energy as he prepares to spring up.

_Like elastics, stretching longer than the flimsy rubber could carry on, things have changed._

"Nice serve!" Hinata shouts; as always the ace's eyes are watching the other side, measuring up each fickle, barely discernable change in movement of the opposing team. On good days, the vice-captain's attention span, at least on court, is unbeatable, and not even a slight shift in weight could escape from Hinata's notice. But just a second's breath, Hinata's eyes are on the captain, and that look is trying to tell Tadashi something; why, it has a _Today feels like a good day_ sort of ring to it.

Tadashi readies himself, feeling a steady ache in his calf so soon into the game but choosing to ignore it; after all, his mind is playing through countless scenarios, one after another in rushed continuity. He opens his mouth, a tangle of emotion ready below his Adam's apple, a coarse ball of bravery he doesn't know he has, and yells with all his resolve flowing with the outstretch of his hand, "Here we go!" 

Eyes close for a breathless moment, a snapshot of fragile glass that is the construct of Time. Illusion or not, Tadashi knows he can place his trust on it, to guide him forward.

Not until mid-serve does his warm, focused eyes shoot open with tamed ferocity, seizing information and determining the output, the angles, the position he must coerce the taut muscles running along his arm to obey - it is only then that he realizes Hinata's hands crossed behind his head, of Tsukishima's left shoe slowly grazing and slipping across the lacquer-like shine of the parquet, of Kageyama's wrists gently shaking to the turmoil and tension in between their respective teams, already prepared to strike and send a clean-cut toss to the awaiting ginger by his side, if needed.

_We're all ready._

And Tadashi lets his arm snap, in one fluid, whip-like motion.

The volleyball zips forward with a resolute whoosh that is discernible even by the audience spectating above in the boundaries of the stands. "It's not a jump floater!" the opposing captain shouts, full of distress and of raw surprise. And Tadashi takes a step back -- the libero on the other side stamps a foot down forward -- and the ball dances off the libero's forearms, careening past his ear and off to the eggshell-white sidelines.

 _Like elastics around one's wrist, stymieing the blood flow by an insignificant, careless amount, until it starts to itch,_ Tadashi's hands are red with flames, and it stings with anticipation: of another chance to serve, of another ball to come their way, for him to rely on his team to carry it through. However, the sting is overshadowed by the hardening of his voice as he breaks into a victorious cry, and the dizzy glee of his accomplishment inducing even the spectators to frenzied shouts.

He isn't ready when Hinata comes bursting forth with a high five, or for Tsukishima's low grunt of "Good one," beneath his usual emotionless expression. But, as he is given the ball again, he _is_ ready for whatever is thrown at him today. He might have been long ready, the moment he stepped into this very gym, with goals to reach and points to gain.

 _Like elastics, ever changing to whatever they're made to enwrap_ , he'll see to every spike and feint, every powerful attack from the other side, and use tried-and-true tactics he's built into his system over these past two years to stand guard. After all, Karasuno's always been like crows, adaptive to their environment. Omnivorous, varicolored, flexible, and open to improvement. Just like Tadashi himself.

Nowadays, he's no longer "the only first year who's not a regular." He isn't even "that guy who uses the jump floater" or "Karasuno's pinch server."

You might hear,

"That captain fooled us for sure,"

and,

"He's the most unpredictable one of them all."


End file.
